Song of the Meadowlark (Intertwined Book 1) by Sherri Wilson Johnson Read Free Book Online Page B

to the dresser, she turned her back to the drawers and squatted down. With her hands tied, it took every bit of her strength to open the top drawer. She stood again, turned around, and looked inside.
    “Please let there be something in here I can use, something sharp to cut these ropes.” She searched but couldn’t find anything. She shut the top drawer with her knee, turned around again, knelt, and tried to open the bottom drawer. She almost tipped over when the warped drawer finally flew open from the force of her pull. She sat on the floor and looked in the drawer. Nothing in there, either.
    Cora struggled to her feet and surveyed the squalid place. The lantern made shadows across the room. Daylight had streamed in the door when the attacker came to the cabin, but it was closing in on five or five-thirty. She wouldn’t make it home for dinner.
    She shut the bottom drawer, in case the man came back before she was able to escape. From her vantage point in the middle of the shack, something captured her attention—a cable coming out of the wall. She followed it with her eyes into a wall-mounted cabinet. Could it be a phone cable? Her heart threatened to leap from her chest. Could she be this close to rescue?
    Cora hopped over to the cabinet and used her shoulder to pry it open. The telephone sitting on the shelf brought a gasp forth from her. The captor had obviously hidden it so she couldn’t find it. Well, he wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. Now if she could find a way to get herself loose, she could call for help.
    She surveyed the darkening room again. A large tool chest, about two feet high, sat near the door. She hopped over to it and knelt in front of it. Yes, it was unlocked. Cora turned around again and pushed the lid open.
    Pain seared her wrists. “Ouch! Oh, man, that’s not good.” She’d cut herself on the sharp metal edge of the chest, and blood trickled down her fingers. She tasted bile in her throat. “Don’t give up, Cora,” she admonished herself aloud. “You cannot sit back and let this happen to you. You have to fight your way out of here.”
    Cora peered into the chest, and although the corner of the room was draped in shadows, a pair of branch trimmers glinted in the light. If only she could get them behind her back and somehow cut the ropes off of her hands, she could get free. She could get out of here. Cora tried to reach them but kept losing her balance. She had to make this work. If she could cut the ropes off with the same jagged edge of the toolbox she’d cut her wrist on, she could get free.
    She turned around, positioned her hands—one on either side of the edge of the chest—and sawed back and forth. Sweat poured off her forehead, making it impossible to see. She was cutting herself, but it didn’t matter. She had to do this.
    Finally, the rope tore, and Cora was free at last. She reached inside the tool chest, got the branch trimmers, and cut the ropes off her feet. Her hands and wrists dripped with blood and throbbed. Blood soaked into her clothes, and she almost fainted. She needed to stop the bleeding, but there was nothing clean enough to use as a bandage.
    Cora steadied herself for what she must now do. She had to call for help.
    Who could she call? She didn’t know the O’Reillys’ number. With trembling legs, she walked to the cabinet to the phone and dialed the operator.
    “9-1-1 operator. What’s your emergency?”
    “Please—please help me. Someone kidnapped me.” Cora tried to remain calm, but every nerve in her body felt like electricity ran through it.
    “What is your location, ma’am?”
    “I don’t know. I was driving from Lewistown to the O’Reilly ranch in Southern Hope through some back roads, and I got lost. Then my tire blew out, and someone rammed me in a gray Ford F350 pickup. I was walking for help, and someone attacked me in the woods. I’m in a cabin. An old rundown shack.” Cora’s knees trembled.
    “Okay, ma’am, help’s on